A Piece of Cake
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: A poor, abused, and incredibly irritable Battler decides to take a break from Beato's mind games- only to become involved in an even bigger, more confusing 'mind game' with her butler. And cake. :Battler/Ronove:
1. BPM

**A Piece of Cake  
><strong>Chapter One

'BPM'

* * *

><p>"I hate you guys sometimes," Battler muttered, arms folded- glaring sourly at Ronove's back. "I mean- I really, <em><strong>really <strong>_hate you guys."

"May I ask- and I hope it's not impudent of me- the reason behind your sudden foul temper?" asked Ronove, turning to give Battler his usual smile; just a little bit teasing, and- at the same time-_ completely_ unreadable.

Battler sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He'd only been 'talking' to Ronove for a few seconds, and already he was beginning to get a headache. That was probably some kind of record.

Battler had been sat in the kitchen for a while (though why Purgatorio needed a 'kitchen' when they could just summon food from mid-air was anybody's guess); his head resting on his elbows, whilst his eyes burnt a hole in Ronove's back. Strangely enough, quite contrary to his usual nature, Ronove hadn't engaged in any pointless conversation with Battler (gasp). Instead, he'd more or less ignored the irritable red-head- moving about the kitchen, replacing the freshly-made cookies in the oven with more raw, unbaked dough shapes in silence.

Battler wasn't sure if Ronove was trying to be considerate, or if he was simply trying to annoy him further by pretending he didn't exist.

Then again, Battler was never sure about Ronove's motives; it was difficult to tell what Beato's butler was thinking, considering he was _always _smiling. In that manner, that damn butler was completely different from Beatrice. All of Beatrice's emotions (even the ugly ones; the arrogance and cruelty and selfishness) showed up on her pretty face perfectly, twisting it into something unattractive, almost frightening.

Beatrice was fairly easy to read. She was always shouting or laughing, mocking Battler- poking fun at him- and announcing him to be 'incompetent' at every turn; sometimes even using the red text- which was, Battler thought, complete and utter overkill. It was one thing calling somebody stupid- but to do so in a way where it was _impossible _to defend yourself, because it was the _concrete truth?_

That was a low blow.

Then again, Beatrice the Golden Witch wasn't renowned for her 'ladylike' nature.

Ronove, however, was completely different to his 'lady' (and Battler used the term loosely. Very loosely).

Beatrice was loud and raucous, her face occasionally displaying twelve emotions all at once, even if they weren't necessarily complimentary to one another, so they all crowded around her eyes and lips and brows in a complicated mess of contradictions.

Ronove, meanwhile, was a completely closed book.

Always smiling.

Always teasing Battler; but in a manner that suggested he didn't really mean it.

And always being, since the moment Battler had laid eyes upon him, completely infuriating and untrustworthy and just plain weird with it.

"You should know the reason," Battler replied tiredly- letting his back fall against his chair with a _thwump._

Urgh. All the white was beginning to get to him a little. White was a stupid color for a kitchen, anyway; wouldn't that just show the dirt off more? Kyrie was a practical woman, and the kitchen back at home was a lot darker; as were all the carpets, come to think of it…

Then again, Kyrie didn't have any magical skills to clean up spilt food with the snap of the fingers and a few golden butterflies.

White, white, white, white, white.

Battler was sick of white.

That was why he closed his eyes. If he kept staring up at the ceiling, he'd get a headache.

… …Looking back on the situation, it retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to close his eyes around Ronove, though. Battler trusted that damn butler, with his facetious words and small smiles, even less than he trusted Beatrice.

Now, that was _quite _a feat- considering Beatrice was _deranged_; a fully grown woman, who believed herself to be the 'witch of Rokkenjima's night', and whose hobbies involved making people glorify her name and mass genocide.

That would have looked _great_ if Beatrice was trying to find a date, Battler couldn't help but snicker to himself. It was always nice to have a hobby? What kind of guy would date a hag like that, though- even if she was attractive? With a personality like that, she was a complete nightmare.

"I'm afraid I don't know the reason behind your foul temper," said Ronove smoothly, his voice charming as always. "Thus, I decided to ask you."

"Yeah, well- maybe I don't want to talk about it."

"If you didn't wish to talk about it- whatever this undefined 'it' may be- then why did you try to initiate conversation between us to begin with? If you would care to recall, _I_ wasn't the one who first began speaking."

Batter's lips contorted into a frown- and he opened his eyes, intending to leave them half-lidded and angry-

But at the sight of Ronove made Battler's eyes widen to almost comical proportions; his calm, carefully-manufactured aloof nature shattered.

He was very close.

Far, far too close.

Ronove was stood a few inches away from Battler's face, one of his gloved hands pressed to the side of Battler's head. His eyes- they were an incredibly bright, piercing blue. Battler hadn't noticed that before. Well… Why would he have noticed before? It wasn't like Battler wanted to wax poetic on Ronove's eyes- bore into Battler's with a strange kind of intensity; and that teasing smirk still played across his lips.

Battler's breath caught in his throat.

N-nobody (at least, not another _man_; a man with an unreadable expression and a smirk that wasn't _quite_ cruel, but certainly_ wasn't _friendly) had ever forced themselves into Battler's personal bubble so completely before-

And Battler hadn't even realized.

Battler hadn't realized Ronove had become so close.

At least- not until he'd opened his eyes.

…That was quite disturbing.

"H-hey… G-go away…"

"Hmn?" Ronove tilted his head to one side. "Does this bother you?"

Battler's left eye twitched.

Then, he reached forwards-

-and, in a sudden movement, the palm of his right hand smashed against Ronove's face.

At least it got that damn creepy butler to move.

Meanwhile, a rather dark part of Battler's mind started cackling over the thought he might just have broken Ronove's nose.

Sadly, when Ronove turned gracefully to face Battler once more, his nose wasn't bleeding. The only visible sign he'd been pushed backwards at all were a few out-of-place strands of hair; but he brushed those aside quickly, and rather elegantly, too.

He was still smiling.

T-that damn demon…

He didn't have any right to _smile _like that; not when he'd just done a very good job of halving Battler's life expectancy in two.

"Y-you creep," Battler said- his voice still agonisingly, irritatingly breathless. "T-that's _precisely _why I hate you… y-you so-called 'witches' and 'demons'. Y-you fucking bastard…"

All of the inhabitants of Purgatorio; they _**all **_made Battler wanted to stab himself in the face with sharpened objects.

Multiple times.

Apart from maybe Virgilia- but Battler didn't want to involve her in his argument. Adding any exceptions to his rant would, somehow, invalidate it; and Battler wasn't in a very generous mood, anyway.

Not when his BPM was still pounding at around 180.

Oh, so he was going to have a heart attack from stress.

That was cool.

At least dying via natural means was preferable to being killed by one of Beatrice's enchanted human-stake girl things, or being vaporised a cloud of butterflies; or, say, having his stomach split open and stuffed with cakes and candy.

Hell- compared to all the things Battler had seen Beatrice do, having a heart attack actually didn't sound _that_ bad.

It sounded somewhat _pleasant, _even.

"Pu ku ku~" Ronove only laughed, his gloved fingers pressing against his lips. Battler wondered why he bothered to place his hand to his lips at all; it was fairly obvious Ronove was laughing, and his fingers didn't stifle the sound. "I apologise. It's far too much fun trying to irritate you, Battler- especially when your reactions are so _violent_~"

"…Why does that sound like such an innuendo. It shouldn't be an innuendo. Are you trying to flirt with me?" asked Battler- trying to keep his voice steady; deadpan; disdainful.

Battler expected Ronove to deny it- to shake his head, and say 'I'm a gentleman'- or some such other complete lie. If Ronove was a 'gentleman', than Battler was a newt.

…Which he wasn't.

However, instead of following Battler's expectations, Ronove merely smiled- and said, in his light, teasing tones, "Perhaps~ It depends. Would you_ like_ me to flirt with you? I have no objections to the idea."

Battler felt his face burn bright red- the same color as his hair.

Ronove… was just too complicated to try and figure out- and Battler wasn't even sure _why _he was trying to 'figure him out' at all; because Battler really _didn't_ care about Beato's butler _**that**_ much, and Battler was convinced- in fact, he knew it for a fact- that if he spent too much time with Ronove, his sanity would gradually begin to wear away.

But, then again…

Well.

The same could be said about Beatrice's company.

And Lucifer's.

And Leviathan's- and all the way right down the scale to the pigtailed Asmodeus (because the stakes may have looked harmless, but they were anything but; even more irritating than that old bastard had been when he was trying to teach Battler how to drive).

And…

Well.

The stakes weren't too complicated to understand- not at all. The biggest mystery about them were their names; Battler had a hellish time trying to tell them apart- and his pains were only compounded when Satan, enraged he'd accidentally called her 'Beelzebub', had tried to put out of his right eye.

And Beatrice wasn't overly complicated to understand either; she had so many emotions watching her sometimes gave Battler motion sickness.

But Ronove…

Ronove was different.

And Battler always _had _liked mystery novels.

Some people- or 'demons', as it were- hid their true emotions behind masks, constantly acting like characters in a play, trying to remain elusive; just as enigmatic as the culprits in the mystery novels Battler had always loved to read.

But Battler had (generally) been able to find the right answer to the mysteries presented in those novels; and when he'd solved something particularly difficult, he'd always felt a sudden rush of pride- a feeling of achievement he rarely felt elsewhere, during other pursuits.

Some people weren't so different from mystery novels.

And solving them- prising right into their hearts and laying their emotions bare so you could see, quite clearly, the _real l_human being underneath, was just as satisfactory as reaching a conclusion in a mystery novel.

Battler wasn't sure if he could solve Beatrice's riddle. Her game board was too expansive, with too many characters- and the red truth only pinned Battler's arms behind his back; boxed him into corners and shattered any reasoning he attempted to make before it even passed his lips.

But, those games were still fun, even if they did make him want to tear out his hair- and Beatrice was, admittedly, very good at spinning an interesting story.

So… maybe something like this would be fun, too. There weren't any rules that prevented Battler from trying to understand _Ronove; _to prompt a more emotional response from him that wasn't a small smirk or a teasing comment.

Earlier, Battler had been irritated, completely exasperated, because he'd been unable to solve Beatrice's game; to the point where even trying to _think_ about it felt like beating his head against a brick wall.

Battler needed a distraction.

That was why he'd gone to Ronove in the first place, wasn't it? For a distraction; because, whilst Battler knew conversing with Beato's butler inevitably made his heartbeat speed up and his head swim with confusion, it would take his mind off Beatrice for just a little while.

And, if Battler could dig a little deeper- and find out what Ronove truly thought, behind those small smiles- then maybe he could distract himself for even longer.

Just for a little while.

Maybe Battler would…

Start to play a _new_ game.

A game of his _own_ creation.

He'd elicit something other than a small smile from Ronove; and he'd try to draw as many emotional responses from Beato's butler as he could.

And Battler _wasn't_ going to lose this time.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **This is kinda-sorta pointless plotless Battler/Ronove fic because… aaa well you guys should all know this is my ~favorite~ umineko pairing by now, and those two are my favourite characters to write, and I need a break writing adorable Jessica/Shannon tentative romance-type stuff and do something different XDD Something with ~cake~ XDD

**27/02/2012: **Um, proof read, tried to sort some wonky characterization and awkward sentence structures... …

~renahhchen xoxo


	2. Je ne sais quoi

**A Piece of Cake  
><strong>Chapter Two

'Je Ne Sais Quoi'

* * *

><p>"Hey. Ronove."<p>

"Hn?" said Ronove.

...Well, he didn't really 'say' it. Even though Ronove was 27th highest ranking earl in hell with all kinds of strange powers, even he had problems _saying_ 'hn', which was more of a vague sound than an actual word. Even so, Ronove 'spoke' it with some degree of style that made Battler frown. Why couldn't **_he_** ever sound that suave?

Was it just something that went hand-in-hand with being a butler?

...Whatever.

Battler scowled, shaking his head. It didn't matter. Why was his mind derailing his thought process like that- taking it through completely irrelevant routes?

It had to have been a byproduct of spending so much time with Beato. Battler had been exercising his mind too hard, trying to come up with semi-passable (even if they were _laughable_) solutions to Beato's bizarre closed room murders- and now he was going insane.

Beato would be happy to hear that.

"Battler?~" said Ronove, voice teasing, as he waved a gloved hand before Battler's face (and since when had that damned butler become so _close _anyway?) "I fear your eyes are open, but your mind has drifted elsewhere."

"S-shut up," Battler muttered, pushing Ronove away.

Somehow, that scene seemed incredibly familiar. Hadn't that occurred just a few minutes ago?

"I'd be more than happy to 'shut up'," said Ronove (a complete lie, of course, considering how much he seemed to like the sound of his own voice. The small smile tugging Ronove's lips didn't do anything to help Ronove's case- if anything, it made him look even more untruthful), "but it sounded as if you were about to ask me a question. Have you forgotten it, or...?"

Somehow, that sounded like an insult. A thinly veiled 'pu ku ku~ Can't you even remember what you were going to say? Have my good looks ~distracted~ you?'

Which wasn't the case.

At all.

Battler glared at the tabletop, his face bitter, as though the wooden surface had done him some great injustice.

Battler was so used to Beato insulting him, he'd began to search for hidden insults in the words of others- even if those insults didn't actually exist.

Maybe he was getting paranoid.

...Battler still didn't like Ronove's smile, though.

"No. I know what I was going to say," said Battler, voice dark, as he glared at Ronove. "I was curious about something, and I wanted to ask you a question."

"Oh~ Curious?"

"Yes."

Battler placed his palms on the tabletop and pushed himself to his feet. He didn't like sitting down around the Ronove- or, hell, _any _of the demons or witches in the meta world. Somehow, sitting down made Battler feel off guard and uncomfortable; undefended. More open to attack Besides, Battler's dramatic hand gestures looked more striking when he was stood at his full height...

Which was still shorter than Ronove.

Damn.

"You guys all have weird magical demon powers, right?" said Battler, his fingers making substitute quotation marks as he spoke to suggest he didn't believe a word of it ('magical demon powers'? What nonsense…) "So why do you have to make all your food and stuff by hand," Battler gestured towards the oven in the corner and the kitchen counter littered with flour and bowls of cookie dough, "instead of using magic? It seems like such a_ pain_."

"I don't find cooking a 'pain'," said Ronove, smiling. "It's quite enjoyable. Furthermore, if it was possible to use magic in the creation of good food, I doubt Milady would have much use for me. I'd be out of a job- which would be a pity. Pu ku ku~"

"Huh." Battler smirked, folding his arms. "Sooo... You're an 'oh-so-powerful' demon... and yet you'd prefer to spend your time baking cookies then tormenting the innocent? _Really_?"

"Baking is a more enjoyable past time than causing others unnecessary suffering, yes~"

Battler raised a brow. "Oh really?"

"Yes~ Human beings are quite adept at causing themselves pain and suffering anyway; I doubt they would need my help."

"Your very _existence _causes me unnecessary suffering."

"What a shame~ When you say things like that, Battler, it cuts me," Ronove gestured towards his chest, that teasing grin never leaving his lips, "right here."

"You'll get over it."

"I'll do my best. I can't make any promises, though."

"Pssh." Battler made a dismissive sound and rolled his eyes. Then, he stabbed a finger in Ronove's direction- for no particular reason other than it looked 'cool'. "Like I'd trust any promise _you _could ever make anyway."

Ronove laughed at this, pressing his fingers against his lips in his typical fashion. He moved with too much elegance, like an other-worldly creature; which, Battler supposed, he probably was.

An other-worldly creature that liked baking.

...Yeah.

Battler smirked.

When he phrased it like that, Ronove didn't seem all that intimidating anymore.

"It is rather strange," Ronove said, once his laughter had subsided (though the light-hearted humor was still evident in his words), "but- let me assure you- food created from thin air is inferior to food made by hand."

"Oh?" asked Battler, vague interest sparking across his face.

Battler had already tasted Ronove's cooking before- and he'd even waged vicious, bloody way with Beelzebub more than once trying to get at the last of the brioche (it really was to die for; and Battler very nearly **had** done, when Beelzebub almost poked out his eye out with one of her long fingernails). Battler had never put much thought into what he'd been eating; but when he stopped to consider it, it was... kind of interesting.

And it was relaxing, too.

Cooking was a far more cheery topic than mass murder- which was one of Beato's favorite hobbies.

Then again, Beato was a very… 'interesting' woman.

"Would you care to present some evidence for that statement?" asked Battler- speaking as though he were in court.

"Certainly~ You've already tasted my real cooking- but I'll create something comprised entirely of magic for you, if you'll care to try it. Please don't expect too much."

"Heh." Battler grinned. "You sound just like a shy maid when you said that last line."

"Does Battler like shy maids?"

"Sure- but acting humble doesn't suit you. It's kind of creepy."

"I'll keep that in mind, Master~ P-please don't be too harsh on me if I can't meet your expectations…"

Battler felt himself start at that. Ronove's voice had changed from its usual mocking, self-assured tone into something softer- shyer; and the small stutter honestly had Battler's heartbeat increasing.

IfShannonhad said something like that, well…

It would have been undeniably adorable.

A-and even though it was only Ronove speaking it- smiling, teasing Battler and trying to press his buttons- it was still far more unreasonably 'cute' than it had any right to be…

Battler shuddered. He felt his face flush red.

"S-stop that…"

"D-did I do something wrong, Master?" asked Ronove- voice filled with faux concern, as he tilted his head to one side.

That…

T-that was eerily 'sweet'- like tea with fifteen sugars, or something equally sickening.

"C-cut that out!" Battler snapped- his voice slightly stronger, more forceful, than before. "I'm serious!"

"But I can't resist. I usually have more self-control- but it's so much fun teasing you," said Ronove, with a small smile. "Your reactions are _priceless_~"

"Just hurry up and show me whatever you wanted to show me," said Battler, trying to sound calm; though his heart was still racing.

"Certainly."

A small cloud of butterflies appeared in Battler's outstretched hand; and, between his fingertips, there materialized a single cookie. It looked fairly safe- though Battler still looked at it dubiously, turning it over in his hands and getting a light dusting of crumbs spread across his fingers.

"Poisonous?" asked Battler, glancing up at Ronove with a small smile.

"Not this time."

"If you were Beato, it totally would be."

"That may be so- but I don't take pleasure in being needlessly sadistic. If you were to die, who would I have to amuse myself with?" asked Ronove, smiling.

"Couldn't you go, I dunno, annoy the seven stakes or something?"

"I am afraid they would kill me."

"Good point. Ihihi..."

"I doubt they would be as enraptured by my 'c-can I help you, Master?' either~ Pu ku ku~"

Battler's face flushed slightly. It was insane- and incredibly disturbing- how Ronove's voice could flit between light-hearted amusement and a soft, shy, breathy gasp so effortlessly; and Battler had to duck his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

"I-I'm not enraptured by it…"

"Of course not. I was exaggerating, of course. Pu ku ku~"

Battler surveyed the cookie for a few more seconds- before, with a shrug, he bit down and broke a piece off between his teeth.

It...

It didn't taste strange- and it certainly wasn't poisonous; but, when compared to Ronove's normal cooking...

It didn't taste right.

Battler wasn't a stranger to cooking. Most people believed- especially Jessica- that he'd be useless in the kitchen; the type who blew up cooking pots and gave himself third degree burns. That wasn't the case, though- surprisingly enough.

(Then again, maybe people also believed Battler was a complete moron, and he had quite the penchant for mystery novels. It was little different being thrown into a mystery novel himself- especially when his opponent wouldn't play fair, hid half the pieces from him until the last minute, and used 'magic' for her murders, though.

Did Battler just look stupid to the general public? Was it his hair?

…It was probably his hair.

It wasn't _his _fault it wouldn't lie flat, damn it!)

Battler remembered- when he'd returned to live with his dad and Kyrie and his new little sister, Ange- he'd felt somewhat guilty about skipping out on the 'big brother' duties. Ange had been a little cautious around Battler at first- but she soon began to love him, and then _adore _him; following Battler everywhere, and clinging onto his legs like a little red-headed limpet with pigtails.

Ange had been elated to have a 'big brother'- and Battler (having always been rather childish at heart) had quickly slipped into the role Ange expected of him. He'd combed her hair for her in the mornings and tied it into those cute pigtails; he'd read her bed time stories about princes and princesses; and, on several occasions, he'd baked cookies with her.

Somehow- although Battler didn't know _how_, exactly (it just seemed to be some universal rule)- the homemade cookies he'd baked with Ange were always nicer than the ones from the store.

And the magic-made cookie was...

It tasted just like the ones from the store.

The difference between the cookie comprised purely from magic and the one made by Ronove's own hands was similar to the difference between the store-bought kind and the ones Battler and Ange had created together, laughing and getting flour everywhere as they did so.

Battler pulled a face, and Ronove laughed; not bothering to stifle it this time.

"Is that a compliment towards my skills in the kitchen? Is my hand-made food better than that cookie?" asked Ronove amusedly.

Battler paused- unwilling, initially, to exchange pleasantries with Ronove; but then he decided, as he swallowed the rest of his cookie, that it didn't really matter.

Had he... ever even complimented Ronove before?

Maybe doing so would get a slightly different response from Beato's butler than outright denial would have done.

Besides, Battler_ did_ like Ronove's cooking; everybody seemed to- and it was far better than Battler's botched attempts with Ange all those years ago (but it wasn't that long at all, was it? Not really…)

"Sure," said Battler, smiling- wiping crumbs from his fingers and onto the floor. "I like yours better. There's some sort of... Something else... About them. I guess."

"Do you mean 'je ne sais quoi?'"

Battler wrinkled up his nose. "I don't speak French."

"But it's a beautiful language~"

"Yeah. For French people."

Ronove gave another soft laugh- and then, all of a sudden, that damned butler was standing too close- a-always too close... Battler tried to move away, but something about Ronove's eyes (they were so bright blue it was piercing) held Battler in place- and Battler could only glare, as Ronove's gloved fingers gently cupped his chin.

Tenderly...

Battler shuddered.

Ronove sighed softly- his breath ghosting across Battler's face- though his smile did not vanish. If anything, it grew just a little wider; a little more mischievous.

When Ronove next spoke, his voice was soft, hushed; strangely... intimate...

"Oh dear~ Is there not a romantic bone in your body, Ushiromiya Battler?"

Battler's shoulders tensed.

He felt his face turn red- a slow and painful process that made his inner self shout at him to stop being such an idiot.

"However..." Ronove continued- still speaking in those embarrassingly tender tones that made Battler feel a little light-headed, "the difference between food made by magic and food by hand would have to be... _love_~"

"L-love?" Battler didn't know how he managed to get those words out; it felt like his throat was constricting.

"Indeed. After all... Without 'love', it cannot be seen."

And, with an enigmatic smile, Ronove leant forwards slightly (Battler's heartbeat getting faster and faster), and then...

Battler trembled...

As he felt Ronove's fingertips brush against his lips.

"W-what...?"

"You had some crumbs stuck to your face~" Ronove explained, voice teasing. "I could have left them there- but I thought it would be kinder of me to help you. Be thankful I didn't choose to use a more inventive method to get rid of them~ You really are quite charming when you get flustered. Pu ku ku~"

Battler's left eye twitched.

His face burned redder still.

"Y-you..."

"Yes, me?" asked Ronove- amused.

Battler's shoulders shook.

"Y-you fucking weirdo!"

If _that _was what happened when Battler complimented Ronove-

Then Battler didn't think he'd be hurrying to do that again.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **omgomgomg banter between these two characters is just the most ~fun~ thing to write ever, you have no idea.  
>This is why I love writing these guys together- because I love the way they seem to bounce off each other like this XDD<br>Also, the idea of 'big brother' Battler is just kind of adorable XD~  
>This fic is gonna be fairly short and rushed and yea but I'm still going to try my best to make it IC :D<p>

Lolol I was feeling kind of depressed when I first started writing this. As soon as I began to write it cheered up me up though XDD~

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	3. I should have thought this through

**A Piece of Cake****  
><strong>Chapter Three

'I should have thought this through'

* * *

><p>Battler sank back down into his chair with a sigh, folding his arms. He didn't much care about standing up and trying to stare the butler down at this point- mainly because it was a fight Battler was sure he'd lose. It was a foregone conclusion. Battler, even with his dramatic hand gestures (Beatrice made fun of them, but that was only because she was an old woman in the body of a sexy blonde and she didn't understand Battler's mastery of melodrama), knew he wouldn't be able to intimidate Ronove.<p>

That damn butler was so... S-so...

_Gah!_ Battler hardly had the words for it- but when Ronove was invading his personal space like that, _smiling _all the while as though they were actually _friends _and what he was doing was _okay_, it made Battler want to punch Ronove in the face; and yet, at the same time, Battler couldn't.

Not before his face had turned bright red, anyway.

Battler felt as though Ronove were manipulating his feelings somehwow- and he hated it. If it wasn't Beatrice poking fun at him it was the stakes, and if it wasn't the stakes it was Ronove, and if it wasn't Ronove it was the voice inside Battler's own head telling him he was incompetent.

This wasn't _fair._

Then again, nothing in the meta world was 'fair'.

Was that really all Battler meant to the twisted inhabitants of the meta world? Did he exist merely for other people to taunt?

It... wasn't a pleasant thought.

Everybody else had so much control over him- from Beato with her chains (not a metaphor; that woman had some _seriously _'interesting' hobbies) to Ronove with his ability to make Battler blush like a stammering school girl.

And Battler _hated _it.

Granted, Battler hated most things about the meta world- but, above all (well, maybe the constant murder of himself and his family was more upsetting, but Battler didn't really want to think about _**that**_), Battler hated being so helpless; lost amidst a sea of eerily cackling witches and demons with suave smiles that kept turning his world upside down when he'd never asked them to, and would much prefer it if they left him alone.

Why couldn't Battler hold a little power over somebody for a change?

The idea of being called 'Master' by one of the seven stakes as they hurried after him in maid's attire was very charming... Or maybe Beato in a short dress- far more 'modern' than the heavy, uncomfortable-looking gowns she usually wore...

Ihihi...

Lost in this rather charming fantasy, Battler dreamed. His head was propped up by his hands, elbows on the table, whilst he stared off into the distance.

"Battler?~"

But the soft sound of Ronove's voice soon pulled Battler from his dreams; his dreams of being a lord in a cape with an adoring harem at his feet.

"What do you want?" asked Battler sourly, blinking up Ronove- trying to forget the fact his face had turned bright red when Ronove invaded his personal space a few minutes ago.

"I'm merely curious~ If I irritate you so very much, Battler- and I can't imagine why I would-" here, Battler rolled his eyes, and Ronove's smile grew just a little wider too, "-then why, I wonder, are you still here?"

Battler sighed.

His dreams about Beato and the seven stakes had been nice, but he knew they were incredibly unlikely; it wasn't like Battler was ever going to exercise that much control over Beato's game board _or_ her pieces. If Battler so much as _thought _about dressing Beato up in something a little less 'traditional' than her bulky gowns, she'd probably kill him. Then revive him. Then kill him again- in a multitude of gory, painful ways, each death scenario more brutal than the last, until she'd destroyed every last cell in Battler's body.

Out of all the meta world inhabitants, Ronove (and Virgilia- but Battler didn't know where she was) was the one least likely to strangle Battler with his own entrails, 'just for fun'. And Battler wasn't being paranoid; he'd actually received similar threats from Satan when he got her name mixed up with Mammon's (honestly, there were too many stakes. It'd be easier if they wore name tags).

"I guess you're the best of a bad lot," said Battler, voice deadpan. "Congratulations."

"My~ I feel so flattered."

"At least _you're_ easily placated."

"Of course," said Ronove, voice smooth and silky, in a way that Battler had to admit was rather charming. "Being complimented by a physically attractive person is always rewarding~ It's base human nature to feel flattered. Pu ku ku~"

Ronove had spoken in such a matter-of-fact manner it took Battler a few seconds to distinguish anything wrong with his statement. However, once the full impact of his words- _he's flirting with you, he's __actually__ flirting with you. T-that's really fucking creepy!- _hit Battler, the red head's face soon turned red again.

Damn his hair. Having a red face and red hair was never a good combination; it made him look like a lighted splint.

"D-don't say stuff like that!"

"Hmn? 'Stuff' like what?" asked Ronove, voice filled with faux innocence- which was almost as disturbing as his softer, shyer, little girlish tones. The idea of an 'innocent' Ronove was, quite frankly, laughable. Or really creepy. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Battler grit his teeth, eyes narrowed. "Stop _flirting _with me."

"Well... Maybe if it wasn't so rewarding to tease you, I wouldn't try," said Ronove, eyes glittering with amusement. "You really do walk into these things, Battler~"

"It's not _my _fault you're a creep."

"That's incredibly harsh. I felt we were beginning to understand one another, too," said Ronove, with mock disappointment. "We've reverted to childish insults already?"

Battler gave a small, irritated 'humph'. That 'humph' summed up all of Battler's feelings in a neat little nutshell- and that 'humph' conveyed far more than any complete sentence could have done. It translated roughly as 'we'll _never_ understand each other you weirdo, and I don't really want to either- and I'm _**not**_ here because I enjoy your company; I'm here because I have nowhere else to go, and you're the one person I feel kinda-sorta safe with because you probably won't try and kill me for your own enjoyment, but, yeah, I'm not sure if it's worth it considering you keep trying to sexually harass me, and it's actually _very _disturbing- maybe if you were a sexy girl it'd be fine but you're not so back off before I smash your head open.'

Battler wasn't sure how much of that hate-filled tirade was actually communicated through his 'humph'- but it seemed Ronove at least understood part of it, because he laughed.

"Is there anything I could possibly do to regain your trust?" asked Ronove, smiling.

Battler intended to say something rather demeaning and Beatrice-like, such as 'grovel on the floor and kiss the tips of my shoes and ma~aybe I'll consider it. Ihihi~', but, at that moment, his stomach decided to speak for him.

Damn traitor.

"Hungry?" asked Ronove, smiling.

Battler scowled. "Maybe."

"Perhaps I can sate your... appetite, then~"

"...You really have the amazing talent of making _everything_ sound like a bad euphemism," said Battler, voice deadpan, eyes narrowing. It was useless getting flustered about it- even if his cheeks were still dusted with light pink. If he became unnecessarily embarrassed over everything inappropriate Ronove said (which was about 85% of the words that came from his mouth), Ronove would only tease him again. "And people call _me _a pervert."

"I assure you, I'm a gentleman. I would never try to take advantage of you, Battler~"

"Good. Because if you tried, I'd hurt you."

Ronove only smiled (he always smiled. Would his face melt off if he didn't? ...That would be kind of interesting to watch), and- with a click of his fingers- a slice of cake appeared before Battler on the table top.

"I made it myself," said Ronove. "I would hope it tastes somewhat better than the cookie you just ate."

"Tch." Battler gave another short, disparaging noise- and he was quite disturbed to find he sounded an awful lot like Aunt Natsuhi when she began to develop one of her headaches. Battler had to wonder if he was doing the same squinty eyes and pursed lips thing Natsuhi did at the onslaught of a painful headache, too...

Maybe that was why Ronove was grinning at him.

Did Battler unwittingly pull that unattractive 'my head's about to blow up' face _**all**_ the time, and he'd never realized? Was that the 'beautiful' expression that grace his face when he tried to think rationally about the completely irrational murders, too?

…No wonder Beatrice kept laughing at him.

Natsuhi was a very pretty woman- but that pursed-lips narrowed-eyed expression didn't suit her. Battler was, if Beato's comments were to be believed (and Battler didn't really believe them, considering how much Beatrice lied... But it still knocked his self esteem back, just a little, being insulted by such a gorgeous woman), hideous, with stupid hair. If that expression made _Natsuhi _look ugly, then what on earth did it do to Battler's face...?

Battler scowled.

Why did all the meta world inhabitants have to be so unfairly attractive? Beato was blonde with blue eyes, the stakes were all proportioned like fashion models, Virgilia- despite being the fairytale representation of Kumasawa- was beautiful, and there was something so unsettlingly charming about Ronove it made Battler want to hit him.

Urgh.

Battler was going to get a _complex_ now.

Still frowning, Battler picked up his fork, and stabbed it into his slice of cheesecake. The motion was overly angry, and he moved with about as much finesse as a mountain bear.

"You need to find a new hobby," said Battler childishly- being vindictive merely for the sake of being vindictive. "Cooking isn't a very manly thing to do."

"Then, would you prefer if it I took pleasure in trying to torture you like Milady?" asked Ronove.

Battler's face blanched.

That... ... was quite an unpleasant thought. It was bad enough Beato instructed him to kiss her shoes- but if Ronove started doing it too, Battler might actually throw _himself _into the jaws of Beato's goats.

Fighting the Golden Witch Beatrice wasn't really worth the pain and embarrassment and mental torture that came with it. Battler only had to hope he got some kind of reward at the end, or he'd file a complaint.

"...Not really," Battler finally said. Then, he sighed. "I guess you're fine as you are."

"Why thank you~ You like me just the way I am?" asked Ronove, mischief laced through his words.

Battler pulled a face. "Don't over-romanticize. There's so much stuff wrong with you I don't even know where to begin. Well…" Battler smirked. "I guess there's your mustache for one."

"Would you care to tell me what's wrong with my mustache…? I take great pride in my appearance~"

"You look like a creep," said Battler flatly.

"Ah~ Resorting to petty insults is incredibly incisive and witty," said Ronove, grinning. He didn't look like he cared; not really- and he sounded more amused than anything else. "I must commend you on your excellent, extensive vocabulary, Battler~"

"Yeah, because resorting to sarcasm to prove a point is _sooo _much better."

"…Touché. Nicely done," said Ronove, giving Battler a small round of applause. "That was rather well argued~"

"Thank you." Battler allowed himself to smile back, ever so slightly, at Ronove; a more sincere smile than he usually gave. That rare smile was made all the more unusual, however, if you considered their pervious exchange had been little more than a string of thinly veiled verbal insults. "And I wasn't saying I liked you as you are. I'm saying, compared to Beato, you're… okay. Not _that_ insufferable."

"High praise coming from Ushiromiya Battler indeed~"

"Of course," said Battler, smirking. "At least you're not completely insane. One psychopath is enough for me."

"Pu ku ku~ I fear Milady might be giving you a warped view of witches. She's far nicer than most of her kind."

Battler felt his heart sink like the pit of a peach. "You're kidding."

"I'm afraid not."

Battler gave a small groan, scraping the prongs of his fork against his plate with a horrible _skrrrch _sound that even made him wince. There were witches in the meta world worse than Beato?

Battler made a mental note never to cross paths with any of _those._

"This world is fucked up."

"I'm afraid so."

"Heh~ Should I consider myself lucky, then? Is Beato actually soft and lovable on the inside?"

"Milady is not that bad once you get to know her."

"Without 'love' it can't be seen, right?" asked Battler dryly, holding the fork- a cube of cake stuck to it- to his lips.

"Something along those lines, yes."

"You want me to _love_ Beato?"

Ronove laughed at this, placing his fingers against his lips again in another incredibly elegant motion that made Battler want to hit him. "You could try- but you'd have to be very brave to do so. Milady is a difficult person to 'love'- even for people like myself and Miss Virgilia, who've known her for so long. But you shouldn't take everything she says to heart. Milady is hardly as cruel as she pretends to be."

Battler raised a brow at this interesting information. Was Beato... a tsundere?

If that was the case, maybe she'd look better with twin tails... Or a high school uniform...

Ooh, a Beato with twin tails in a sailor suit... Why did that sound so adorable? Ihihihi... She could join Battler's harem with the seven maids of purgatory…

That sounded like fun…

Wasn't there a fragment out there that showed a scenario like that?

"So, what about you?" Battler shot back at Ronove- trying to dispel the dangerous image of Beato dressed like a school girl from his mind. "You want me to try and 'love' you, too?"

"Why, Battler~" said Ronove, smiling. He took a seat beside Battler- and Battler was sure that chair hadn't been there before, but... Who cared? It was the meta world- and Battler was too tired/hungry to try and protest any impracticalities. Linking his fingers together, Ronove lent his against the table, his head tilted to one side. "I didn't realize you and I shared so many interests~"

"Don't say things like that so seriously," said Battler, voice deadpan. He tried to look unaffected- but he couldn't help shifting in his seat slightly. "It's creepy."

"Perhaps you shouldn't ask me questions like that then~"

"Tch. Whatever." Battler rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I was speaking hypothetically."

"Hmn~ Perhpas I'll indulge your hypothesis for a while."

"Hn?"

Ronove leant in just a closer, that unreadable smile still on his face. "I imagine Milady would grow rather jealous of anybody you did 'love' more than her. But..." Ronove pressed a gloved fingertip against his lips. "Please don't tell Milady I told you this~"

"She'd get angry?"

"Undoubtedly."

That... was very interesting...

If Battler declared his undying love for somebody who wasn't Beato, would the golden-haired witch... actually become _jealous_? Would she try to feed Battler's potential 'love interest' to her goats...?

That sounded entertaining.

In a rather twisted kind of way.

Was Battler a twisted person?

Maybe he was becoming one. If being twisted was the only way to put Beato in her place, maybe he'd try it.

Now that Battler thought about it, Beatrice _did _seem to care about Battler's opinion a lot. When he'd lost his temper with her, her eyes had actually widened… And she'd looked just a little bit upset.

If Battler began to flirt with somebody else- if he paid another person more attention than her- would Beatrice begin to relent her verbal and physical abuse?

Would she try to get back in Battler's good graces?

It sounded like an intriguing experiment.

...And Ronove was very, _very_ irritating. If Battler wanted to play a game- if Battler wanted to 'control' somebody- then... why not...?

Battler couldn't help but frown, heedless of how unattractive it might have made him look. He didn't like the way his internal thought process was shifting; and it the mental images of Beato in her school uniform had been replaced with… other… things…

Things involving Ronove.

'Without love it can't be seen', huh?

Maybe that related to Beato's true nature; but could it also relate to whatever was hiding behind Ronove's unreadable smile, too?

Battler was sick and tired of Beato, and everybody else in the meta world, pushing him around; and he was sick of Beato's mind games, too. Maybe, if he made Beato jealous... He could bet he one trying to play mind games with her.

That would be quite a lot of fun.

_Perhaps._

Like poking a sleeping tiger in the eye, or stepping on a landmine, it promised destruction; but if Battler managed to guide Beato's wrath towards somebody else, and he managed to manipulate a piece of Beato's furniture in the same way he himself had been manipulated, it would be worth it... Wouldn't it?

Besides...

It would be interesting to see how Ronove reacted, if anything else.

Battler smirked a smirk of somebody who had formulated a very bad plan under the influence of constant teasing from a childish witch, a lack of sleep, a lack of food, a desire to hold power over somebody and a rather rash nature; although, to the untrained eye, Battler's smirk would probably have looked just like a normal smirk.

Battler knew he was probably going to regret this later.

But he didn't really care.

"Hey, Ronove~" said Battler, his voice adapting a light-hearted lilt. "Why don't you try a piece of cake?"

"I'm afraid it's not in my place," said Ronove smoothly, with a small smile.

"Like you care about your 'place'."

"True, but I'm not that partial to sweet things."

Battler's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "And yet you make nothing else."

"It's a shock, I know. When Miss Beelzebub discovered I didn't share her penchant for sweet food she tried to gouge me. It was an unpleasant experience. Miss Beelzebub is rather enchanting, but has a terrible temper…"

"_**I'm**_ not gonna stake you," said Battler, jabbing his fork in the air to make a point... Which, somehow, managed to dispel his 'trust me it's okay I won't stab you with this easily stabbale object' point at the same time. "I just think you should try some cake. What about the 'heart' that went into it?~"

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"...Fine." Battler frowned. "Have it your way, then. If you want to be awkward."

And then he placed the piece of cake in his mouth, slid it off the fork-

And...

In a moment of complete madness he'd try and rationalize to himself later, when the distracting images of Beato in schoolgirl outfit trying to catch his attention had fully left his head-

Battler lent forwards

(_what am I doing_)

and took hold of Ronove's chin between his fingers

(_no seriously Battler what the hell are you doing_)

and pulled Ronove's face towards his

(_abort, abort! I think the elastic bands holding your brain together have snapped! Beatrice has __**broken you**_)

"B-battler... What are you doing...?"

(_that's a very good question)_

But the slight stutter in Ronove's voice, all of a sudden, made Battler think his stupid plan was worth it; just to see that slightly less than composed look flicker across Ronove's face as Battler pressed their foreheads together.

Battler smirked.

"What does it look like?~ Stupid."

And, with that childish insult-

(_Ronove... looks a lot more attractive when his eyes are wide like that. That's a surprise_)

-Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's in a saccharine sweet, cake-flavored experimental kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **i'm trying to keep these guys vaguely ic but the thought battler would initiate anything with ronove without being prompted into it by external factors is quite frankly ~ridiculous~ so yea despite my attempts for them remain ic it's still a bit... ~not~ XD forgive me. at least i'm tryin to rationalize it somehow, even if it's not completely believable.

there's something refreshing about writing light-hearted fanfiction in which the charas are not gouging their own skin off or pondering how much they hate humanity for a change~ all my stuff has been so dark lately, this fic is like a small bastion of happiness amidst a ~sea~ or angst XDD

**~renahhchen xoxoxoxo who has neglected to use capitals here for no real reason trolololol**


	4. Heartshaped strawberries

**A Piece of Cake****  
><strong>Chapter Four

'Heart-shaped strawberries'

* * *

><p>Kissing somebody across a table was not, as Battler soon learnt, all that comfortable. Ronove had lent back in his seat in some vain attempt to escape- and it was only Battler's fingers cupping Ronove's face, and tangling in his hair, that kept him in place. The edge of the table was already digging into Battler's stomach. If Ronove had pulled away with any more force, Battler would have been dragged across the table if an attempt to maintain contact- and Battler worried, if he leant forwards any further, his torso would become separated from his lower body.<p>

That wasn't a very sexy mental image.

Not really.

Maybe Beato- the freak that she was- would've found slicing Battler in two _enchanting_, but Battler quite liked all his internal organs where they were- i.e. inside his body. Kissing Ronove wasn't really worth the pain that came with it.

"B-battler..."

Even though the soft, confused, completely un-Ronove-like moan that forced itself from Ronove's lips when Battler pulled away was incredibly rewarding.

"A-ah... h-ha…"

Ronove's breathing was erratic, uneven; completely disordered, jumbled- and Battler had caused that. He'd… made that happen…

Actually, that was (even though Battler hastened to admit it) actually… kind of hot…

B-but wait; w-was he really getting turned on by _that_?

Battler decided to experiment; biting down on Ronove's lower lip with enough force to actually hurt. Ronove gave another gasp of combined pain and surprise and-

Y-yeah, that was pretty sexy.

Okay, maybe sounds like **that** were completely worth having his internal organs compressed by the edge of the table; just so Battler could bask in the novelty of hearing Ronove whimper in that helpless manner.

Battler had control over somebody.

For too long he'd been pushed down, pushed around, by Beato, or her stakes; but it was different now. Battler had- with a single kiss- managed to win this twisted power play; and he wanted to savor his victory.

It was _Beato's_ furniture Battler had his lips pressed against; it was _Beato's_ furniture Battler was turning into a light-headed, stammering mess under his fingertips; it was _Beato's _furniture Battler was… almost devouring, like eating a cake.

Maybe there was some kind of poetic justice in that.

Maybe that was why it felt so incredibly satisfying.

Or maybe Battler was just a sadist, and he hadn't realized.

When Battler drew away once more, a string of saliva- trembling, tenuous- connected their open mouths together; and Battler had to wonder if that was cake-flavored, too.

"Battler..."

Ronove looked at Battler in shock; blatant shock. His composed expression had been shattered completely, reduced to shards, and Ronove couldn't pick them up and piece them back together quickly enough to maintain his unaffected air. Ronove's eyes were just a little wider than usual- and, as he blinked in confusion, his trembling fingertips pressed against his own lips.

Battler wondered, briefly, what he had tasted of.

Cake, most probably.

Well, there were worse things he could've eaten before pressing their lips together. Ronove should have been thankful. No, more like, Ronove should have been thankful somebody as amazing as Ushiromiya Battler had kissed him at all to begin with.

Battler couldn't help but smile, just a little, at that thought.

Was he really that arrogant?

He hoped he wasn't turning into another Beato. A male one, with a distinctly better dress sense, yes- but Battler didn't really want to be that cruel all the time. Besides, breaking out into spontaneous, undignified choruses of 'gyahahaha' every ten seconds sounded like it'd be murder on his vocal chords.

"Battler," Ronove repeated for the third time. Now, however, Ronove managed to finish his sentence. His mind had managed to register something more than Battler's name and the lingering taste of cake still on his tongue. "May I ask... w-what that was for?"

"Ihihi~" Battler laughed rather cruelly in reply; a 70% water version of Beato's favored 'gyahaha etc'. Battler's fingers pressed, lightly, against Ronove's cheek again, his thumb moving under his chin. "Flustered?"

"Among other things," said Ronove, blinking up at Battler with those piercing blue eyes. "I-I realize I said something along the lines of 'creating the right atmosphere' once-"

"-and using sweet words, and communicating with body language," Battler finished, that dangerous smirk still twisting his lips. "Sooo? What's your point?"

"Y-you remember it word for word? I'm... impressed. Should I be flattered?"

"You were practically on top of me when you said it." Battler rolled his eyes. "It'd be weirder if I couldn't remember. It was _traumatic_."

"Don't humans try to block traumatic events from their minds? And yet, instead, you held onto every detail..."

"I have to hold onto the tiny details, even if I'd rather forget them. If I didn't, I'd never be able to win against Beato."

"Mn... True."

Battler laughed again. It was slightly more eerie than usual; lower- with a promised threat behind it... And, if the slight tremor that ran through Ronove's body was any indication, that laugh did it its job.

"So why're you bringing it up?~" asked Battler, his voice infused with malicious humor. "Is _this _what you had in mind when you were talking about 'body language'?"

"To be perfectly honest-"

"That's a new one for you. This promises to be amusing."

Ronove smiled at Battler's sarcasm; a more sincere smile than usual, without that enigmatic edge. Even though the effects of Battler's surprise kiss were beginning to wear off, Ronove was still shaken; that much was obvious, by the subtle shift in his facial expressions.

"I suppose it is. However... I never truly believed you'd take me seriously." Ronove laced his gloved fingers between Battler's own. "Am I believe you've succumbed to my charms?~"

"Ha. Not likely. I'm not 'succumbing' to anyone."

"Then... Hmn... Was it a spur of the moment decision?"

"I put a lot of thought into it, _actualllly_~" said Battler, drawing out his words as Beatrice was so wont to doing.

Ronove raised a brow. "Oh really...?"

"Mmm~ It wasn't spur of the moment at alllll. I'll do it again if you like~"

"I-I… B-battler-"

"Shut up. I'm giving you some proof."

Then- with another broken glass smile, sharp enough to cut- Battler leant forwards and, very deliberately, pressed another kiss against the side of Ronove's mouth. The small, surprised gasp this procured from Ronove was almost worth the pain kissing at such an awkward position brought about; the side of the table was still digging into Battler's stomach.

Battler drew away slowly, hesitantly. His fingers were still linked with Ronove's; blue eyes staring into blue.

"Aha... B-battler..."

Ronove paused; searching for the right words. It wasn't often Battler had seen Ronove in such a flustered state (in fact, this was probably the second time...) Battler drank in the look on Ronove's face greedily, as he would've let a piece of cake linger in his mouth.

Control.

Battler liked being in control. It was a nice change from being abused incessantly by Beato.

"I admit, I'm a little... confused... by your sudden affections," said Ronove, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "And I'm flattered, of course-"

"Of _course._ That's why you're blushing."

"A-ah...?"

Battler smirked, pressing the palms of both hands against Ronove's cheeks. Their heads were so close their noses were almost bumping; and that, of course, only made the flush on Ronove's face more prominent.

"You're blushing~" Battler repeated, his voice light and sing-song, teasing. "Ihihi~ You act so nonchalant when you invade my personal space, but when it's the other way around you get all flustered all of sudden...?~ That's kind of funny. I didn't realize you were such a prude."

"That's not true," said Ronove- trying to keep his voice smooth, level, but Battler noted a slight stutter in there. "I'm merely trying to comprehend your motives for doing this."

"Who said I had any motives?~"

"I can tell by the expression on your face. That, and the fact you frequently rebuff all of my advances- which is quite depressing, considering how attractive you are. Pu ku ku~"

"You think I'm attractive?"

"I do," said Ronove, smiling. "Although Milady is right; your hair is quite ridiculous~"

Battler pouted, digging his thumb into the side of Ronove's cheek in some childish form of revenge. Battler didn't understand why everybody held such a grudge against his hair; every strand was styled to perfection.

"Sorry, sorry," Ronove apologized, not sounding sorry at all; smiling his usual smile once more. "But to return to my previous point… You've never made any show that you desire my affections; in fact, it's quite the opposite. The probability of you, Ushiromiya Battler, suddenly falling in love with me is quite low. Thus, I can't help but suspect you have some kind of ulterior motive in mind."

"Tch." Battler made a small noise of irritation. "Good reasoning."

"Thank you. So~" Ronove's blue eyes stared into Battler's- so bright, so piercing, Battler felt himself freeze. "Why are you doing this, Battler?~ Are you trying to upset Mila-mphhh..."

Ronove had been dangerously close to the truth there, and Battler had to act decisively. Battler wasn't in the mood to talk- not anymore; and Ronove always spoke far, far too much. Battler had only sought out Ronove's company so he could_ avoid_ Beato- and whilst Battler's clumsy attempts at 'seduction' were, in part, a method to irritate Beato, that didn't mean Battler _wanted_ to talk about her. Thinking about Beato, with her pretty face and unfitting ugly insides, made Battler's head hurt.

Physical contact was easier to understand.

At least, it would've been, if Ronove wasn't... _Ronove_- but nothing in the meta world was simple, so Battler had to take everything with a grain of salt.

Or a piece of cake.

Battler plucked the strawberry (whole, heart-shaped, and devoid of its inedible stem at the top) off his slice of cheesecake. Some rather unpleasant looking cake-like gunge was encrusted to one side of the strawberry, marring it- and it got Battler's fingers sticky; but he didn't really care.

Battler took the heart-shaped strawberry and popped it in Ronove's mouth.

It was a waste of a perfectly good strawberry (the best bit of the cake! the child in Battler's mind wailed), but Battler could always reclaim it later...

Battler kicked his chair aside with more force than necessary (the clatter made when the chair hit the floor was incredibly satisfying), and walked towards Ronove; skirting round the stupid table that had caused Battler's innards so much unnecessary pain. Finally, that stupidly solid table wasn't an obstacle anymore; Battler could finally press himself against Ronove without any immediate danger to his vital organs.

Stupid fucking table, trying to hinder his attempts at breaking Beato's furniture.

Damn it to hell.

...W-wait...

...That was pretty violent, wasn't it?

Battler's fingers curled round Ronove's shoulders, pulling him into a standing position; again, with more force than Battler knew he even possessed.

So Battler liked manipulating people, he was (apparently) a horrible sadist, he had an unjustifiable hatred for inanimate objects, and he was stronger than he thought…?

Wow.

Battler really _was _learning all sorts of information about his character from this 'experiment'.

"I don't want to talk about Beato," said Battler, his voice commanding, eyes hard. "Not now."

Ronove didn't respond. That strawberry was still held between his teeth; a few small spots of cake against his lips. A faint pink flush was spread across Ronove's cheeks, like icing on a cake, and his eyes were wide.

Battler liked that Ronove a lot more than the enigmatically smiling, constantly teasing one.

"So you can pull other expressions other than those creepy smiles after all~" Battler mused aloud, grinning. "Let's see how many other interesting faces I can get you to make~ It'll be a game. Sounds pretty fun, huh? Ihihi~"

With that, Battler pushed Ronove back against the table (it was probably uncomfortable, but Battler didn't care; Ronove deserved a little bit of discomfort for being so insufferable 99% of the time).

And then Battler began the arduous task of reclaiming his strawberry.

It was the best part of the cake, after all- and he wasn't going to waste it on Ronove.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Battler's a total control freak XD~ The game master tip ~totally~ shows that XDDD;

You know, a load of the fanart featuring this pairing includes cake XD; It's just, like, their ~thing~  
>This 'story' (which was pretty plotless anyway. A flimsy excuse to write more of this pairing XDD) is nearly over, yo. When I've finished this I'll work on some equally short ficlety BeatoBattler stuff that a wider section of the fan base actually like XDD~ <p>

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	5. Oh you'd be surprised

**A Piece of Cake****  
><strong>Chapter Five

'Oh, you'd be surprised'

* * *

><p>"H-ha... Ah... B-battler..."<p>

Ronove was trapped; pinned between Battler's body and the table. His coat was hanging off his shoulders, his cravat untied, and most of his shirt had been undone by Battler's trembling fingers. His hair was messy- perhaps even more so than Battler's (which certainly _was _an accomplishment), and his lips were swollen from Battler's not-so-gentle kisses. His breath escaped in short, sharp gasps, as though he were having difficulty breathing- maybe because Battler simply couldn't keep his hands (or his tongue or teeth or mouth) to himself. In short, Ronove looked almost nothing like his usual, composed self; and Battler to pause for a few seconds to revel in the fact he'd done that.

_He_ had.

Ronove was almost completely powerless underneath him- and every kiss, every touch, Battler gave Ronove was enough to make Ronove inhale sharply or moan will ill-disguised need.

_Need._

Being in control was... almost dizzying; and the power Battler felt, as he pressed light kisses against Ronove's throat and made the other man squirm, was intoxicating. No wonder Beato wanted everybody to 'glorify her name'- it was _addictive._

Kind of like cake- but more delicious…

Urgh.

Did Battler just compare Ronove to cake?

Did he just call Ronove 'delicious'?

"B-b-battler…"

…Whatever.

Noises like _that_ really _were_ 'delicious'- especially coming from Ronove.

"Ihihi~ I didn't realize you were even _capable_ of making noises like that~"

"I-I'm... h-ha..." Ronove gasped again, as Battler pressed his body against his. "I-I'm... capable of… l-lots of things..."

"R-really?" asked Battler. "Like whaaat? Show meee~"

Oh holy hell.

Battler was drawing out his vowel sounds just like Beato- and he was thirsting for control just like Beato- and maybe he was a stone's throw away from laughing like a maniac and feeding people to goats like Beato, too. Wasn't that kind of worrying? Wasn't that-

Wasn't...

Well.

Battler could always worry about his sanity later.

Ronove looked up at Battler under his eyelashes; a strangely sensuous motion that made Battler's legs feel weak, even though it was _Ronove_ pinned against the table and _Battler_ was the one in control.

And then, Ronove smirked.

...That didn't look like the smirk of beaten down, submissive 'furniture'. That looked like a smirk that said 'your attempts to seduce me are amusing and I was kind of playing along with it for a while for my own entertainment, but now I'm going to show you how it's really done.'

Battler wasn't sure how he managed to glean so much information from a simple smirk, and maybe he was being a little paranoid, but he still didn't like that look on Ronove's face.

And then-

"Ow!"

-a gasp of mingled pain and surprise forced itself from Battler's throat, as Ronove grabbed hold of his shirt. Ronove moved at almost inhuman speeds, with almost inhuman strength- which probably _wasn't_ human, considering Ronove was a 'demon'.

Then again, Battler's mind was too fragmented and broken up to really 'think' that much anyway.

More pain.

Another gasp.

And then- and Battler wasn't even sure how it happened- the tables had been turned, and it was no longer Ronove pinned underneath Battler; instead, Ronove had reversed the position, until Battler was trapped between the uncomfortable table (stupid fucking table) and Ronove, with his hands pinned together above his head.

...Well, shit.

"Hey? W-what are you doing?" Battler asked, glaring up at Ronove with a mix of childish anger and not-so-childish lust staining his words. Battler was irritated to note he was stuttering- and he was shaking.

"I'm displaying one of my talents~" Ronove answered. His voice was, in contrast to his previous breathy moans and gasps, rather controlled; even amused.

"What? The talent to really piss me off?"

"Pu ku ku~ That, amongst other things~"

"What other things?"

"Battler... Did you really believe I'd let you do whatever-" Ronove dipped his head, pressing a kiss against the side of Battler's mouth, "-you-" another kiss, "wanted?" And, to punctuate this question more fully, Ronove's lips finally met Battler's in a real kiss; Battler gasping despite himself, allowing Ronove's tongue into his mouth even though he kind of wanted to bite it off because that wasn't how it was meant to be, not at all, Battler should have been pressing against Ronove and making Ronove sigh and, a-and...

Battler gave a small moan when Ronove's mouth drew away from his- and, as much as he hated Beato's butler at that moment, he still (despite the voice in his head shouting at him for being an idiot) wanted to pull their mouths together in a mess of teeth and tongues and spit.

Ronove tasted of strawberry cheesecake.

It was... _nice._

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to take advantage of my... kindness... anymore," said Ronove, looking down at Battler with that irritating smirk. "I've already come to the conclusion you're attempting to defy Milday in some manner, a-and-"

Battler's eyes narrowed.

He _glared._

"I already told you **not **to talk about her."

And then Battler- in a sudden display of strength- managed to untangle his hands from Ronove's; taking hold of his shoulders and pushing him over once more so Battler was pressed against Ronove again. Battler didn't try to be gentle or caring- not like he'd been with his few other girlfriends in the past. Not that Ronove was a 'girl'- or even a 'friend', in any semblance of the word, so Battler supposed it didn't really matter. Battler slammed Ronove into the table- and the pained gasp that came from Ronove's mouth only made Battler smirk.

Ronove was a demon. He deserved being pushed around a little.

"S-so... Is this defiance or escapism?" asked Ronove, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he looked up at Battler's eyes.

"What're you talking about?" asked Battler, frowning. Why did Ronove have to talk so much- even now? Did he want to engage in a deep psychological discussion? "It is what it is."

"Ah, forgive me. I should have phrased that more eloquently."

"Yeah~" Battler said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, as his fingers threaded between Ronove's. "You should've done."

Battler began to take off Ronove's gloves- frowning at how difficult it was; how awkward. But Battler hated those gloves; they made everything feel so impersonal; so clinical... Battler wanted to be touched by Ronove's fingers, without any barriers; n-not that he really cared, of course. Because Battler didn't care.

It was just as another 'experiment'...

Or maybe…

Maybe the desire to be touched stemmed from the latent romanticist hidden in Battler. The side of his character that gave everything- even confusing, complex, unfathomable things- so much more meaning than they should've had; because trying to attribute 'meaning' to what he was doing with Ronove was a sure-fire way to get a headache.

"B-battler, what are you...?"

"Shhh."

Battler (finally) managed to work one of the gloves off Ronove's fingers (stupid glove. Who was laughing now? …Well, Battler wasn't laughing, because laughing at inanimate objects was insane… But he'd 'won'). Battler threw the glove aside uncaringly.

Battler looked at Ronove's fingers; long and pale, and elegant. Battler would've likened them to a pianists'- but Battler had never made a habit of comparing people's fingers (he might have been turning insane, but he wasn't that insane) and he couldn't really make such unfounded claims. Even so, Ronove's fingers were unfairly 'pretty', just like every other inch of Ronove; and Battler had to wonder whether his fingers were sensitive because he wore those gloves all the time. Taking off Ronove's gloves had (somehow) been more intimate than unbuttoning Ronove's shirt; and the way Ronove's face flushed gently made Battler smile.

Not a smirk.

A real smile.

This… was getting rather too sappy for Battler's liking- but, even though he'd realized it, he couldn't _stop_. He couldn't stop looking at Ronove, coiling their fingers watching; watching as Beato's butler sighed underneath him in something akin to pleasure.

It wasn't all that different from being with a girl. Not really.

Besides, Ronove's hair was certainly girl-ish enough; smooth, curling about his face and soft to touch.

Then- on a sudden whim he could hardly explain- Battler's fingers tightened round Ronove's. He smirked.

Then-

"B-battler…?"

-he drew one of Ronove's exposed fingers into his mouth.

"H-ha... T-that's... a strange fetish..." Ronove said, laughing softly as Battler bit down on one of his fingers.

Battler took Ronove's finger out of his mouth, watching with a perverse kind of curiosity at the thread of saliva that connected them together. 'Connected', huh…?

_Stop trying to find meanings in stupid things you idiot, _Battler's brain chastised him.

"Well, you always seem to wear your gloves..." Battler said, trying to explain something that was quite inexplicable. "I... I dunno, I-"

"T-that's alright. That was... Strangely... sentimental?"

Battler's face flushed red at this- and, in childish retaliation (Battler knew he was a helpless 'romantic', but he didn't want Ronove to know. Jessica teased him about it every chance she got, and she was his _cousin. _Jessica wasn't an evil deity that existed to make his life miserable- not like Ronove- and she still found Battler's softer side hi**_lar_**ious), Battler bit down on Ronove's neck.

"M'not sentimental about _you_," Battler muttered against Ronove's neck, "y'fucking _weirdo."_

"Aha... Of course not. My apologies. I was being too hopeful."

"Like you mean it when you apologize. Demon, remember?"

"Pu ku ku~ That's true... At any rate- I was wondering if you were attempting to defy Milady by... seducing her furniture… And doing... a-a rather good job at it... H-ha…"

"Thank you~" said Battler mischievously, biting down on Ronove's neck again- before drawing away to look into Ronove's eyes.

"You're welcome. Or, alternatively; are you trying to forget about Milady and her game by doing this? Or, perhaps, is it a mix of both?" asked Ronove- looking up at Battler with those piercing blue eyes.

Battler only laughed, shaking his head. "I'm amazed you're able to have this conversation with me when I bet you're in a bunch of pain," said Battler speculatively. He smiled- slightly more sincere, slightly less cruel, than his previous smirks. "Being pressed against this table like that must hurt like hell."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be alright. Even if... it is rather painful. I-if you realize it's painful, then…"

"Guess I'm just a cruel person~"

"I suppose so," said Ronove, smiling. "At least you're honest about it."

"Which is more than can be said for you~"

"T-truthfully… I-if you want to know the truth… Although you've probably figured it out already…" Ronove gave a small laugh, his face flushing light pink- though he didn't avert his eyes from Battler's. "B-being in pain is… the least of my problems r-right now…"

"Oh?" Battler raised a brow. "Really?~"

"Y-you're… m-making it difficult for me… T-t-to say no… S-stop making me want you- it's i-incredibly inconsiderate…"

"Hey~ I'm just following _your_ example~"

Battler smirked at this incredibly (unusually) honest admission from Ronove; and then pressed his hips against Ronove, grinding their erections together in a rush of friction and heat.

"B-battler…"

"Y-yes…?"

"Y-you're avoiding the question..." said Ronove, his words punctuated by gasps.

"'Cause I don't know the answer."

"B-battler-"

"I-it's kinda hard-"

"Y-yes..."

"-to think... r-right now... A-ask me later," said Battler, his voice thick with lust. "Pick another time."

Ronove looked into Battler's eyes. He opened his mouth, as though ready to complain- and then thought better of it.

He smiled.

A _real_ smile.

A smile that made Battler's own heart skip a beat- cheesy as it sounded; because Ronove really was far, far more attractive when he smiled like **that**; and it was strangely... _Endearing._

Even quite handsome.

"'Kay. Whatever you say, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler."

"Don't draw my name out like Beato does," said Battler, frowning. "That is so not cute."

"I wasn't aware I was cute to begin with?"

"Maybe. But not anymore."

And then Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's again in a softer, far more 'sentimental' kiss then he would ever have admitted to.

* * *

><p>Beelzebub was hungry.<p>

That statement may have shocked people who didn't know Beelzebub very well. After all, she was so very skinny, it didn't seem impossible to assume Beelzebub was the type of girl who managed to survive from day to day on bits of lettuce and vegetation- kind of like a blonde-haired rabbit.

However, if you'd spent more than two seconds in Beelzebub's company, you'd soon learn those previous assumptions weren't true.

Beelzebub was always hungry.

_Always._

Her stomach was like a black hole.

Saying 'Beelzebub was hungry' was a little like saying 'the Earth is round' or 'the sky is blue'- because it was just common knowledge. It would be ridiculous to believe anything otherwise. Beelzebub, despite her slender figure, was _constantly_ hungry; much like the Earth was constantly spherical. If Beelzebub's metabolism worked in accordance to 'normal people' laws, and not inexplicably-attractive-at-all-times-even-whilst-eating-your-body-weight-in-cake meta world terms, Beelzebub probably would've been as round as a planet, too.

Truly, she was the envy of all girls everywhere- and Beelzebub didn't even seem to care.

"It's not fairrrr!" Beelzebub whined, tugging at one of her curly, girlish pigtails in distress.

"What's not fair?" asked Mammon. "Is there a world shortage of creme puffs or strawberry daifuku?"

Beelzebub pouted. "Don't even joke about stuff like that! If that happened, I'd die! I'd really truly _die_!"

"And wouldn't that be a pity."

"Urghh. You're so _mean_! You're horrible! A monster!"

"Yeup," said Mammon, popping the 'p' as though it were chewing gum. She smirked. "That kind of comes with being furniture to the 'Great Witch, Beatrice'."

"Well, I knowww we're meant to be evil," said Beelzebub, rolling her eyes. "But you don't have to be such a mean bitch about it."

"And you don't have to be such a brat, but you are."

"Kyah!" Beelzebub squealed, as though she'd been pricked with a pin. Then- determination blazing in her eyes- she dived forwards; her fingers trying to tickle every inch of her 'beloved' big sister's flesh she could reach at (which, given the nature of the stakes' uniforms, was quite a lot). "Take it back! Take it back take it back!"

"N-never! I-I won't give in to the forces of evil!"

"You _are_ a force of evil!"

"A greater force than you will ever be, o foolish younger sister!"

"I-I'm not foolish!"

"Yea you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nu-uhhh!"

"Yeah way!"

"No way!"

"Bite me!"

"Okay!"

"K-kyahhh!" Mammon gave a loud, undignified yelp, as Beelzebub- true to her words- sunk her teeth into Mammon's arm. Flailing her arms like pinwheels, trying to shake her bitey/bratty little sister off, Mammon squealed. "I-I always knew you were a fat pig, but you can't actually eat ME! I'm not edible!"

Beelzebub wrinkled up her nose and gave a small 'pwehh' sound, as she pulled her teeth out of Mammon's hand. Saliva and teeth marks- rather deep teeth marks- were left marring Mammon's hand; but it was Beelzebub who was left with the look of disgust on her face.

"You taste terrible," said Beelzebub haughtily, flicking a princess curl'd pigtail over one shoulder. With a face like that, one could almost believe she was a princess, and not an improperly dressed air-head who'd just tried to take a bite out of her older sister. "Like, that was grosss. It wasn't even like steak; it was just... eww."

"Well, I'm sorry I don't bathe in sugar or cake or whatever, you creeper."

"I'm not a creeper. I'm..." Beelzebub smiled, stiking a pose. "Adorable!"

"Yeah. Like a skin disease."

Beelzebub pouted. "Don't talk about me like I'm a leper. I'm your sister."

"And some people would argue that's much, much worse," said Mammon, tugging at one of Beelzebub's pigtails. "What do you want, anyway?"

Beezlebub blinked up at her big sister hopefully, her eyes becoming very round and winesome. "Foood~"

"And is that why you tried to eat me?"

"No. I bit you because you're a bitch. Not because I thought you'd taste good," said Beelzebub, sighing. "Silly big sis doesn't know anything. Human blood is sooo Bram Stoker. That's way uncool."

"So, let's get this straight," said Mammon, folding her arms. "You think I'm a bitch-"

"I don't think so. I knowwww so."

"-and yet you want me to do you a _favor_?" finished Mammon. She snorted- then picked up the magazine she'd been flicking through (featuring 'eye-catching' headlines such as 'you, too, can look like a fate worse than death with _ latest summer styles!'), rolled it up, and bonked Beelzebub over the head with it. "No thanks."

"But big sis, you don't understand!" said Beelzebub, her voice adapating a whiney quality. "I'm staaarving! I'm gonna die!"

"Good. Maybe then the mean IQ level in the meta world won't be dragged down so much."

"It's not fair!" Beelzebub whined; her conversation with Mammon looping back to the beginning again, just like a faulty cassette tape or scratched CD. "I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore! Ronove told me he'd cut off my hair- my BEAUTIFUL hair!- if he caught me stealing any more cookies. B-but it's not my fault! It's HIS fault his cookies are so good and..." At this point, Beelzebub seemed unable to speak. Words had failed her when it came to describing how amazing Ronove's cookies were. Instead, she'd begun to salivate; her fingers clenched into fists at her front.

"You know, normal people don't talk about food like that. It's not healthy," Mammon's voice was deadpan. Then, she smirked. "Wait, don't tell me. 'Cookies' isn't some weird euphamism for 'sex', is it?"

"Eh?" Beelzebub made a face- completely snapped out of her food-induced fantasy. "With _Ronove_? No way! I mean, there's that mustache for one thing- and besides, he DOESN'T EVEN LIKE CAKE. Isn't that a sin? He's so good at baking and he DOESN'T. LIKE. CAKE."

"You say that like it's on par with kicking puppies."

"It's WORSE!" Beelzebub said, eyes wide, staring so intently into Mammon's face it seemed she was going to burn a hole in her forehead. "Much much worse! That's like, so terrible I can't even put it into words!"

"Well, your vocabulary was never that stellar to begin with."

"Oh yeah, and Ronove's like totally got the hots for Battler or whatever," said Beelzebub. She spoke matter-of-factly, as though it were an after thought. "So yeah. I'd be wasted on Ronove. I need a real man. Like... um..." Beelzebub frowned, tapping her lower lip with one finger as she thought- before, finally, her eyes lit up. "I need a guy like Gohda!"

"...What."

"He's good at cooking and he likes cake! A match made in heaven! ...Hell. Purgatory? Whatever." Beelzebub shrugged. "Don't matter. Anyway~ Mammon!~ Beloved bitchy big sister!" Beelzebub grasped hold of Mammon's hands in hers, leaning in so close to Mammon their noses nearly bumped together. "Please go invade the kitchen and get me something to eat!~ I can't sacrifice my beautiful hair over some sugar cookies- and don't even tell me Ronove was lying and he'd never hurt cute little old me, 'cause he gets oddly serious about his cooking."

"Maybe he's 'serious' about his cooking because you keep eating it all when his back's turned," said Mammon, her eyes narrowing. "Like a plague of locusts. Urgh. Imagine a plauge of Beelzebubs." Mammon made a face, as a very over-exaggerated shiver ran down her spine. "Sc_aaaary_. The world isn't ready for stupidity on such a large scale."

"Shut up," Beelzebub shot back, frowning. "If you love me at all you'll help me, Mammon!"

"Hmn let me think about- no."

"But-"

"Look, my _darling _baby sister," said Mammon, pulling her hands from Beelzebub's vice-like grip, "I'm not going to help you out."

"Why nottt?"

"Because you _fucking bit me."_

"Oh yeah~ I forgot about that. Hehehe~"

"And you kept calling me a bitch."

"Aww, c'mon," said Beelzebub, voice winesome. "That's all water under the bridge, riiight?"

"I wonder what it's like having a head that empty," said Mammon, flicking Beelzebub in the forehead. "Don't the pieces of lint and tumbleweed get lonely in there?"

"Oh, fine," said Beelzebub sourly, pushing Mammon away. "I guess you don't want to help me."

"Congratulations. You're a genius."

"And," Beelzebub continued, a rather sly grin quirking her lips, "I guess you won't mind if I go tell Satan it was _you _who broke the heels of her favorite shoes. Don't you remember what she said what she'd do if she caught the culprit? Something about intestines and a noose? I don't think that's physically possible! But I guess we'll have to wait and see!~ And just think- if only you'd help your adorable lil' sis, you wouldn't have to die in such a painful manner! Tehehehehe! Kyahahaha!~"

At those words, Mammon's face blanched.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you _wouldn't."_

_"Try me."_

Beelzebub smirked.

When it came to food, there was nothing she wouldn't do.

* * *

><p>"Hey, I'm sorry to intrude but... but... b-b-but... ..."<p>

Mammon blinked.

Then, she stared.

"...What is _happening _in here?"

Mammon pinched her cheek and- ouch! Her fingernails were pretty long... But, despite the brief burst of pain in her cheek, the image before her didn't waver.

Oh.

At least _she _hadn't gone insane.

No- the whole _world _had instead.

The scene probably would've been funny if it had happened to somebody else. However, when Battler looked up at Mammon with wide eyes- Ronove pinned underneath him, most of his shirt unbuttoned and his lips slightly swollen- it wasn't funny.

It wasn't funny at all.

In fact, it was incredibly, kill-me-right-here _embarrassing_; just like when little Ange had found those porn magazines under Battler's bed.

Why did these things have to happen to Battler?

_Well,_ said a rather cruel voice at the back of his mind (the voice that sounded disconcertingly like Beato), _maybe if you weren't such a despicable human being you wouldn't have so much to be embarrassed about._

At least it was only Mammon who'd found them- not Virgilia or (god forbid) Beatrice.

Wait...

Didn't Battler start that whole thing with Ronove to irritate Beato in the first place? So why did the thought of Beato seeing them in that rather compromising position make Battler's face turn red?

"Hey, Mammon... I-I can explain-"

"Can you?" asked Mammon, smirking. "Can you really?"

…That was a very good question.

And Battler wasn't sure he could.

Fuck.

Why did _everything _have to be so confusing in the meta world?

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Mammonnnn :D My favorite stake besides Beelzebub and Belphegor :3  
>Trying to practice my more ~sentimental~ romancy stuff and my humor-ish writing. Urgh. I hope my comedy timing is somewhat decent.<br>Fffffsh. Somehow everybody seems really OOC here (apart from maybe Beelzebub who I see as being a complete ditzy genius XDD), I try my best to keep these doods somewhat IC but yeah it's difficult doing stuff for this pairing XDD;;  
>Battler is so/ difficult to characterize, right. I mean, he's a complete pervert, beato's chew toy, a little bit of a control freak and kind of arrogant, but he also has that mushy overly-romantic side and he's a genuinely nice guy, and it's… difficult… trying to smoosh all that up together when I'm writing XD But I wouldn't like this pairing half as much if the characters were different people with different personalities XDD;;

The 'what is /_happening_/ in here' a totally a reference to this one episode of 'the Inbetweeners', which is actually a ~hilarious~ show that features high school kids punching fish to death and getting thrown in lakes for being arrogant bastards, but I don't know how popular that show is outside of England (where I live o:) XDD Have any of you guys heard of it? XDD  
>Actually I am going to go watch right now in between proof reading this X333<p>

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


	6. No logic

**A Piece of Cake****  
><strong>Chapter Six

'No logic'

* * *

><p>"Whoa! How'd you get so much <em>food<em>?" asked Beelzebub. Her eyes were wide- and for good reason. A plate of cookies had materialized in her hands; delicious, sugar-laden treats forming from clouds of golden butterflies. That 'golden butterfly' magic was fairly commonplace in the meta world, though, and that wasn't why Beelzebub was so surprised.

Rather, Beelzebub was surprised because of the sheer _amount _of food Mammon had managed to pilfer for her. Ronove was never that generous! Beelzebub lifted the plate up to eye level, tilting her head to one side- trying to evaluate the exact mass and volume of the food on her plate.

She couldn't do it.

It was an impossible task, even for a lover of food like her. Her mind simply couldn't create a decent estimate; it was far too overwhelmed by the sight and smell of such delicious food- all of it for her!

Why did Ronove give so much food to Mammon? He didn't have favorites, did he? T-that wasn't fair! Beelzebub appreciated his food far more than anyone else!

...But, whatever!

That didn't matter, just so long as Beelzebub got to eat as much as she wanted.

"You want to know how?" asked Mammon, a cruel smirk slicing across her face. "I'm amazing."

"Arrogant, too."

"A girl as sexy as me is allowed to be arrogant," said Mammon haughtily- though there was humor infused in her words that suggested she wasn't being 100% serious. Flicking strands of brown hair over one shoulder in a very graceful motion.

"You're not sexy! You're about as adorable as this!~" Beelzebub said- and then, with a childish 'bleurgh' noise she stuck out her tongue. Her tongue was peppered with cookie crumbs- and whilst Beelzebub was fairly attractive, the bits of saliva-covered cookie on her tongue certainly wasn't.

Beelzebub really knew how to make herself look as unappealing as possible. It was almost an art.

Mammon only smiled at her stupid little sister's childish antics; watching as Beelzebub continued to eat, the look on her face so blissful it suggested she was in heaven. Mammon hadn't taken that much food because she cared for her sister and truly wanted her to be happy; of course not. It was merely her duty, as the stake of greed, to manipulate every situation for her maximum gain- and she had such a large amount of blackmail potential from the compromising positions she'd caught Ronove and Battler in she'd be stupid to waste it!

Blackmail was fun. It gave Mammon a light, fluttering feeling in her heart.

"What would Milady do if she found out?~" Mammon had said, in a teasing sing-song voice. "What would she do if I called her ri~ight now, I wonder~"

"I-it's not like that!" Battler had retorted- but that only made Mammon laugh.

"Not like that?~ What happened, then? Battlerrrr~ Did you perhaps trip and fall and land, oh-so-conveniently, mouth-to-mouth with Ronove?~ Kukukuku. How unfortunate!"

Battler had turned brick red at that.

Mammon liked it when Battler did that. It was kind of adorable.

"Miss Mammon, please don't tease Battler," said Ronove, regaining some of his composure; a miracle, really considering his own breathing was fairly erratic and his heartbeat must've been hammering. Then again, Ronove was rather good at regaining his composure; he even managed to smile. "I believe he's rather confused at the moment."

"So I can see," said Mammon, quirking a brow. "You think Battler prefers it when he's being teased by you?"

"It would appear so, yes."

Both Mammon and Ronove shared a knowing smirk at that. Battler, meanwhile, had looked completely defeated; utterly broken.

"You people are all horrible- fucking _horrible."_

That comment was enough to make Mammon and Ronove laugh; Mammon's laugh more high-pitched and jeering, whilst Ronove's was soft and elegant and rather controlled as always.

Mammon had proceeded- using her amazing business-like blackmail skills- to lay down her ultimatum. She wouldn't tell Beato about what she'd seen ("it really doesn't matter why you were doing~~ Beato'll crush both of you just the same if she finds out") if Ronove would give her unlimited access to the kitchen. It might have seen like a relatively small price to pay- but Beelzebub was right, Ronove's food really was amazing. Beelzebub wasn't right about most things, but she was right about that.

Besides, thought Mammon, she could always think of more things to ask of Battler and Ronove using blackmail as leverage; a bargaining chip.

Ronove hadn't seemed all that perturbed by Mammon's deal- but Battler's face had burned bright red, and he'd called Mammon some rather unflattering things no lady should've been subject to. Somehow, Mammon felt (she was rather instinctive about the subtler shifts of emotion, having spent a rather long period of time being friends with a girl who hardly ever smiled and was about as incomprehensible as a Rubik's cube) Ronove had only agreed to her terms to comfort Battler.

Ronove didn't seem care overly much about Beato's opinion of him, which was why he frequently teased her- with almost the same regularity he poked fun at Battler. Of course, Ronove didn't do anything that could spike Beato's anger to such extremes she actively tried to murder him- and sticking his tongue down Battler's throat was highly liable to make Beato snap into her 'serial killer' tendencies. But Mammon couldn't help but feel Ronove hadn't done that merely for his own safety.

Maybe... he'd done it for Battler, too.

Maybe.

Awww~ That was kind of... sweet? Sentimental? How noble; it was just what Mammon would expect from a supposed 'gentleman'!~ Not that Battler noticed, of course, being far too consumed by his own embarrassment to care for anyone other than himself.

Mammon's smile turned into something darker, more dangerous, as she idly wound a coil of brown hair about her finger. The look on Battler's face had been _precious_; a light pink blush, his eyes wide, his voice breaking when he said, quite untruthfully, 'I-I can explain...'

Battler always tried to act so composed, so self-assured, so _confident_ when he was around Beato- but he'd been caught completely off-guard by Mammon. He'd been vulnerable.

That... reminded Mammon of somebody, just a little.

A girl from another plain of time.

A girl from another game board; a board that would be forever separate from Battler's owing to the subtle shifts in time. Battler knew that girl as a child he'd baked cookies with when he was younger- but Mammon had known her as a teenager, just a year or so younger than Battler, with serious eyes, a small frown, and childish pigtails.

Ange.

Ange acted cold and aloof too- but Mammon, with her careful pushing and prodding and unrelenting friendliness, had managed to make Ange's face flush and her mask break, too. And Mammon- being greedy- liked those expressions. She wanted to see more of them; and she savored the memory of each and every time she'd made Ange smile.

It had been nice to have a friend. A friend she could tease and torment- and yet, at the same time, a friend she could support and comfort and sometimes, very rarely, make smile.

Maybe Ange and Battler weren't all that dissimilar after all.

It was a comforting thought.

* * *

><p>"I hate this," said Battler darkly, leaning his head against the table-top.<p>

Battler was still in the kitchen- still in Ronove's company, even though Battler was trying to distance himself from that damn butler with his irritating smiles a-and how was he still _smiling _like that after Mammon had seen them-

"Arghhhh."

Battler gave a rather tired, resigned-to-misery moan of irritation.

It wasn't fair. It really, really wasn't.

Battler hated the meta world and the all people who inhabited it. Those bare-legged stake girls and witches in ornate dresses and butlers with self-assured smirks didn't deserve to exist; they shouldn't have existed! They only served to make his life hell.

They probably thought screwing with his head was one entertaining game.

Maybe that was why they always smiled.

And Battler had thought for one brief, shining moment, he'd managed to score some kind of victory.

He thought he'd managed to win.

How stupid he was.

How naïve.

"Battler?"

Battler tensed as he felt a hand fall upon his shoulder; shaking him slightly. Battler didn't want to talk to Ronove- not now. He had no desire whatsoever to speak to Beato's butler, who was (probably) still smiling as though nothing had changed and nothing was wrong.

Battler hadn't been in 'control'; he hadn't been in 'control' at all.

He'd only succeeded in making himself look stupid.

Well, that wasn't very difficult, was it?

Maybe Beato was right- maybe his hair really was ridiculous.

Battler would've left Ronove's company right then and there- dissolved into a cloud of butterflies and departed- but, at that moment, he simply didn't have enough energy. He could barely even bring himself to push Ronove away, although in his minds eye he entertained images of himself punching Beato's butler in the face.

In the end... Battler didn't do that, though.

He didn't move.

He couldn't.

Instead he said, voice dry, "Get off."

"I'd rather not."

Ha. Well. Battler hadn't expected that to work anyway.

Battler managed to lift his head from the table through sheer force of will, his eyes meeting Ronove's. Ronove's eyes were bright blue- so piercing it made Battler wince slightly, as though a spear of red truth had pierced through one of his lungs.

It was stupid Ronove had such a profound effect on him- b-but maybe that was only to be expected, considering what they'd done...

What Ronove had _let_ Battler do to him.

Fuck.

Battler was never going to be able to look at Ronove the same way again. Even if Mammon didn't tell Beatrice, Beato would notice Battler's feelings eventually wouldn't she? There might be a few clues in the way Battler would start, as though scalded, every time Ronove looked at him.

"Please get off me," said Battler, voice deadpan. "I don't have the energy to deal with this right now."

"What I intend to ask of you doesn't require any energy... Unless you have something else in mind?" asked Ronove, smiling, voice teasing- but not cruel.

Battler glared at Ronove sourly. His expression could have curdled milk. "No thanks."

"Ah~ That's a pity, considering you seemed to enjoy it so much before..."

"Yeah, well, things change."

"I wish you wouldn't give me false hopes in such a cruel manner," said Ronove, his voice laced with faux hurt. If Battler hadn't already known Ronove was a liar (just like everybody else in the meta world) he might have been inclined to believe what he said- but Battler wasn't that naïve anymore. "If you truly despise me, perhaps it would have been better if you'd never encouraged my advances."

Battler's eyes narrowed. He didn't like being manipulated. Beato did it enough- he didn't want Ronove to join in, too.

And yet, even so...

I-it had been... again with that incredibly inadequate word, but it had been 'nice' kissing Ronove; pressing their bodies together; making him moan. It had certainly distracted Battler's mind from Beato, if only for a while...

Why did everything in the meta world have to be a 'game'?

Feelings weren't like that; they didn't have to be like that. What did it matter who was controlling who if Battler... enjoyed it?

Did it really matter all that much?

...Maybe.

Maybe not.

Battler sighed. He was so confused- and Ronove's fingers against his shoulder, Ronove's eyes looking into his, weren't helping things; they were only making Battler's mind whirl and his heart hammer in a way that couldn't have been healthy.

"I thought you said you didn't _want _me to return your, ahaha, 'affections'," said Battler, rolling his eyes. "You said it would hurt Beato's feelings- which I find incredibly hard to believe, considering she doesn't HAVE feelings, but... But... T-this is stupid." Battler gave a humorless laugh. "W-why am I even considering this...?"

"I'm aware this is highly... unorthodox," said Ronove, his words gentle, his smile softer than usual. "But logic and emotions can be mutually exclusive."

"Y-yeah, I guess so..."

Battler frowned, looking down at his lap, at the table top, around the room- and then, finally, his eyes settled back on Ronove again.

Battler didn't know what he was feeling or why, and it didn't make any sense- it was completely senseless; but Ronove had been right. Feelings were rarely logical; they didn't have to make sense.

Nothing in the meta world made any fucking sense anyway- why did this have to? In fact, it made more sense that this 'relationship' _didn't _make any sense.

Maybe it was better that way.

Slowly, almost unbidden- a small smile spread across Battler's lips.

Then it became a smirk.

What should it matter if what he wanted was completely nonsensical, incomprehensible, confusing? Didn't that make it more exciting?

Battler didn't care.

He'd figure out the details later.

But, for now-

"Ihihihi~ You know what?"

"What?"

"I like you much, much better when you're flushing and stammering my name~ Maybe I'm a twisted person?"

"Pu ku ku~ Perhaps. That must be why Milady likes you so much."

"But, right now, I really don't care."

-that didn't matter.

It didn't matter at all.

Battler's fingers found Ronove's shoulders- pulling Beato's butler down until their eyes were level; Battler sat down, Ronove leaning over him. Battler was hardly even aware of what he was doing; his head had all but shut down, allowing his hormones to do whatever they wanted. Who needed to think about things like this anyway? This wasn't a verbal battle with pretty colors flying around; this was something else altogether- although it could've been just as deadly...

What if Beato found out?

This wasn't right- it wasn't right at all.

But that only made it more 'interesting'.

"Oh, by the way," said Battler, his voice soft, "can you smell something burning? I think you left those cookies in the oven for far too long."

The look of surprise that flitted across Ronove's face was enough to make Battler laugh; and though Ronove tried to rise, to push Battler away, Battler wouldn't let him.

Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's in another kiss.

Ronove still tasted like cake.

Battler would think about that kiss- and, subsequently, give himself a headache- later- but for now the logic behind it (or lack of logic) didn't matter.

All that mattered was the feeling of Ronove's mouth against his and the lingering taste of cake.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>an: **Yay :D There's a light dash of Mammon/Ange in here aussi, so... something for everyone? XDD;  
>I feel really sorry for Beato when I pair Battler with anybody other than her considering, you know, Beato's past and the like... but I can't help myself liking this pairing :3<br>This might be the last fic I do with this pair though, because... idk. People are probably sick of me spamming the relatively yaoi-free umineko fandom with this stuff now XDD

Anyway, I hope you liked it, I'm thankful for all the people who read & reviewed this, and... yes, thank you ^_^;

**~renahhchen xoxo**


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